


There are moments that the words don't reach

by imperial_queen



Series: When words aren't enough [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperial_queen/pseuds/imperial_queen
Summary: The Exalted Council is over and Liara Lavellan has to adjust to life now she's no longer Inquisitor, and after her most recent encounter with Solas and the consequences of that meeting. While Josephine and Leliana begin planning the fight against Solas, to keep the world in one piece, Liara struggles with everything.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I wanna dedicate this fic to my older brother who will never read it and who would kill me if he found out I'd dedicated it to him. But I wouldn't have been able to write this without him and he deserves it. 
> 
> 2\. Okay so Liara's experiences as an amputee are sort of based on what I remember of my brother's first few months and years as an above the knee amputee and how he struggled, but I apologise in advance if it's inaccurate or different for arm amputees. I also have the amputation as below the elbow but as I have no experience with prosthetics for below elbow amputations, I also apologise for that if there are any details that are wrong. And if anyone wants to correct me, please do, I welcome being given more information on these things.
> 
> 3\. This is linked to another of my fics, 'The deep dark before dawn's first light', but this one starts first and they sort of start at the same time, but this also continues that story. 
> 
> 4\. I will hopefully have the next part written soon and will post that as soon as it's done. 
> 
> 5\. The title of this fic comes from 'It's Quiet Uptown' from Hamilton. And yes I cry when I listen to that song.  
> 6\. And please leave a comment or kudos (or both!)!

“Liara?” Josephine was at the door, not quite in the room, Liara saw as she looked up from the bow in her hand. The bow she could no longer use. Quickly placing it on the table, she stepped towards the door, “We have the meeting, don’t we?” Mustering whatever motivation she could, which ebbed even as she moved, diminishing the more she moved, the more people here saw her, the more she was seen, the more _aware_ of it she was.

“Inquisitor?” her head snapped up, she hastily pulled her hand away from her arm, from what was left of it, from the last thing Solas had ever given her. “I’m not Inquisitor any more, I won’t be every again.” The girl who had asked her, one of Leliana’s agents, looked shocked for the briefest of moments, before the calm returned to her face, “Sister Nightingale said to tell you that she’ll meet you in the garden, to discuss the preparations.”

“I...of course, I’ll head there now,” Liara stumbled over the words, having barely noticed all the boxes lying around the place, not having packed anything yet herself. She didn’t know if she could, if she wanted any of the things she’d acquired as Inquisitor. She wasn’t that person anymore.

* * *

 The new plan was sensible, and it gave Liara a purpose. But she still struggled, still found every day a new challenge, a new fight, the unused prosthetics in the corner of the room still in their box.  Nobody asked about them, and Liara helped as much as she could, but ultimately felt more like a decoration or pitied but invalided relative than the leader they claimed she was.

The temple _was_ interesting she supposed, having never seen anything like it before. Why did so few of the Dalish know about these places, these temples dedicated to their gods, to the Evanuris? Although even thinking about what she’d been told broke her heart every day, she knew that he was wrong, that the Dalish weren’t wearing the vallaslin for the same reason that the Evanuris and elves of Arlathan had, that they meant something different now.

Leaving the busy hall, filled with people unpacking, bumping into each other, jokes and laughter even while they got on with a chore efficiently, Liara headed deeper and deeper into the temple, trying to get away from the feeling of _otherness_ , of not belonging that she had never felt before. Every time she locked eyes with someone, she felt self-conscious, she felt like they were treating her differently.

Leliana had warned about the temple, saying to not get too far from an armed group, especially if she wasn’t wearing a prosthesis. Apparently there were spiders. Not that Liara was thinking about that, she was too busy trying to escape the people, the feeling of being watched, of being different. So when she tripped over the werewolf corpse, which was not as decomposed as it should have been, and a spider decided to descend and snack on her, she was defenceless. And screaming.

As she bludgeoned the spider with her arm, trying to stop it from tearing her head off, she fumbled at her belt for the dagger she’d been given, twisting to avoid the pincers that were as long as her arm.

Finally she managed to grab the dagger, and stabbed it up into the spider, she didn’t know which bit, she didn’t care, she just stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, listening while it squealed and it’s blood dripped all over her.

It was still, eventually, and she pushed it off as best she could, but she still had to wriggle out from underneath it. She sighed, wondering how she could explain this to Leliana and Josephine.

* * *

 They were not impressed. At all. Not that Liara was surprised about that, nobody seemed to be impressed by her killing the spider. And the more and more obvious attempts to get her to wear any kind of prosthetic were getting irritating. She’d taken to hiding them in strange parts of the temple to try and stop Leliana leaving them in unexpected parts of her bedroom, most recently she’d found an old room filled with skeletons and sarcophagi and just left the crossbow one there. And then it had been waiting for her in bed that night.

Was it not obvious that she didn’t want a crossbow where her hand should be, that a crossbow would never make up for what she’d lost, for the fact that she’d almost certainly never draw a bow again in her life, never do the thing that had made her stand out before she’d gone to the Conclave, and become the Herald and then the Inquisitor? If she wanted to replace her hand, she would. But she didn’t want or need some arm that felt more separate, more different, as impossible to reconcile with her body as the idea that her gods were evil slavers, that Solas was Fen’Harel and Morrigan was Mythal’s daughter. Nothing made sense anymore.

* * *

 Slowly, slowly, she started to wear the prosthetics, and she wasn’t happy about it. The threats to send her everywhere with an escort were enough motivation to at least learn how to use the dagger prosthetic. And she hated it. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t a bow, it was getting close, she couldn’t throw the dagger and then inflict more damage on her opponent as she drew the dagger out.

She hated it so much. But at least she could wander the temple and _some_ of the surrounding forest alone, to think. She hated the exercises, she hated the prosthetic, she hated how tired she was whenever she used it, she hated how vulnerable it made her, but most of all she hated how it wasn’t the same, how it would never be the same again.

Some days she couldn’t face using it, some days she was too tired, some days they wanted her to sit with the children, the children who asked questions and stared and made her feel even more different, who made her feel more useless because she could never cope when she was with them, tears and rage coming to the surface more easily, as she fought every day, as she struggled with the most basic of tasks, and she felt so alone. Always alone.

Some days were better though, some days a child asked her to build a castle in the snow together, or a snowball fight started, and she teamed up with the toddlers, and with toddler-approved snowballs, and her deadly throw, all the teenagers, so sure of victory before were now covered in snow, cold and shivering, but also smiling. And she was smiling. It felt like the first time in forever that she’d been happy, truly happy.

* * *

 More and more people were coming to the temple, not just Dalish, not just city elves, but some dwarves who wanted to help with the architecture, and humans who wanted adventure, or claimed elven blood, or were fleeing the remains of the mage/templar conflict, even the occasional Tal-Vashoth showed up.

It was wonderful to see so  many people working together, so many people putting aside their differences to make this something new, a new home for everyone, Liara supposed. And yet if they did not find Solas, if they didn’t defeat him, this would all be for nothing.

* * *

 She was finally getting the hang of the prosthetic, of how it moved and how she needed to change her movements so she could use it. She still missed her arm, she still felt useless, helpless, like an invalid at times, but it was better, life was better. She was trying. That was all she needed to do.

She grabbed the toddler, stopping him from running into a freshly painted wall, Josephine would not be happy if there were toddler-shaped marks in the frescoes. She tapped the boy on the head with her prosthetic, currently without an attachment, and he looked up at her, eyes wide. “Remember what we said about running when there’s been decorating done?” and the boy looked sheepish. Good. Maybe he wouldn’t be so careless in the future. She doubted it. Shooing him back to the other children, of various ages, she shared a glance with the teenager in charge of them, who looked equal parts bored and terrified.

She was about to head over to help the teenager, when a loud barking echoed through the temple, a barking that had everyone tensing, and the teenagers, however small and scared they might look, shepherding the very small children into a corner, a corner that held a secret tunnel, and standing between whatever danger appeared and the defenceless children.

Liara grabbed for her dagger, knowing there wasn’t enough time to attach a weapon to her arm. But she could do this. She would defend these people, these children.

She shifted, moving into a stance that would make it easier to launch herself at any attacker. The barking was growing louder, shouts were echoing down the hallways along with the barks.

And then a marbari barrelled into the room, ignoring everyone except Liara. She tried her best to brace herself, but when Champion launched himself at her, she ended up flat on her back.

The licks and kisses from him she was expecting didn’t arrive, he just watched her, his eyes trying to communicate more to her than she understood.

And then, like a flash, it dawned on her. Cullen wasn’t here. Champion was alone. Something had happened to Cullen.

Pushing the marbari away, with muttered apologies, she fled, running and running through the maze of corridors and stone. She was losing everyone who kept her sane, who kept her in the present, and not searching her dreams for explanations and apologies.

Somehow, she made it to her room, although she didn’t know how. She was too busy trying to keep herself even a little bit together.

* * *

 Josephine found her, hours later, and she was numb. Josephine, who just sat down at the rarely-used desk with a pile of paperwork and started working, ready to talk whenever Liara wanted, if she wanted to, if she wanted to emerge from the pile of blankets she was currently peering out from.

 Some shuffling of blankets later and Liara was sat on the bed, a blanket draped around her shoulders, another wrapped around her torso, her good hand holding it in place to keep her arms and her body warm, and one draped across her crossed legs, covering her feet. Josephine shot her an amused glance. “What happened after…?” Liara trailed off, unwilling to admit that she’d run away out loud. To herself, yes, she would admit to fleeing, but she couldn’t do so out loud. Not even to Josephine.

 “Leliana and some of the others are following Champion. Hopefully what they find will not be what we fear. Hopefully we can help Cullen,” Josephine replied, signing some document with a flourish before placing her quill back in the inkpot, “But what about you, Liara, is there anything we can do to help you?” Liara shrugged and Josephine sighed, “Why did you run? You weren’t in any danger, and no one there would have judged you. We were all shocked.”

“That’s not the point, Josie! Being judged doesn’t bother me as much anymore. Not really.” Josephine raised an eyebrow. Liara shrugged again. Josephine turned back to the paperwork.

 Liara watched as Josephine went through one important document after another, carefully reading every line, carefully checking exactly what she was signing, sometimes taking a spare piece of parchment from the pile and penning a note to someone and adding that to an ever-growing pile of _things_ , all while keeping an eye on Liara.

 Liara’s stomach was doing backflips and frontflips from moving aravels as she watched Josephine. She wanted to explain the mess of feelings, of fear and anger and sometimes of joy and hope but more of fear and rage and despair, she _did_ but she didn’t know any words to explain how she felt, how to explain the helplessness that even now dogged at her; a year ago, she’d have been the first member of the team to go and find Cullen, to save him from whatever had tried to kill him, but now, now she couldn’t help, couldn’t fight, couldn’t do _anything_ to help.

 She grabbed what little courage and bravery she had left, and held onto it, feeling it slipping away from her as she tried to find the words, as she tried to explain, “I...Josie...You don’t understand! Before I was this hero, I could do anything, save anyone. And now. Now I can’t even stand the revelation that one of my friends is in danger, I can’t save him. If I can’t save my friends, who can I save? What use am I to anyone in this state?” she shrugged the blankets off and waved her arm, the one without a hand, without a prosthetic. “I can’t do anything, I’m not a symbol of anything but broken things now.” And there were the tears. Creators, she hated being like this, so useless, so different from who she was before.

 Josephine placed her quill very carefully on the table and then pushed the chair away from it. She sat next to Liara on the bed and wrapped the elf in a tight hug. “Liara. We don’t need you to do anything that you did before. You’re not the only one who has changed. And Cullen wouldn’t want you to feel like this, he’d tell you that you’re being stupid and that you’re not useless.

 “But you’ve tried so hard to be who you were before, to be the Inquisitor and the Herald, that you haven’t grieved. For yourself,” Josephine grabbed hold of Liara’s hand with one of hers, and wrapped her other hand around the elf’s stump, “or for who you thought Solas was. You need to take some time to let yourself feel.”

 Liara cried.

* * *

 She spends hours sat in the room with only Cullen and Champion for company. Hours staring at her arm, wishing she had stopped Solas then, wishing that she hadn’t been so caught up in her feelings, in seeing him again, in the way that him even being there had thrown her off-balance, had given her hope. And now Cullen and who knew how many others were suffering because of her.

 She clenched her fist, anger and rage bubbling to the surface of the ever-present despair, and hit the floor next to her as hard as she could, causing some dust to float in the air, and Champion looked at her from his spot on the floor halfway between her and Cullen. He whined and padded over to her, resting his head on her knee.

 Silence returned to the room, and Liara continued to stare at Cullen, to try and find a way to apologise.

 When she eventually left the room, she did so quietly, pausing at the door to look back at him.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you, finished thanks to the day off I got from work, and the motivation I had left over from doing work for my university.
> 
> This story isn't finished yet, don't worry! 
> 
> Remember to leave comments and kudos, they give me strength.

Liara spent some time every day with Cullen, and every day she was filled with the same anger, the same self-loathing. People kept telling her that it was pointless, that she shouldn’t be blaming herself, that she couldn’t have stopped this, but she needed the reminder. Of who she had failed. 

Sometimes she spoke to him, sometimes she would get a chess set out and play against herself, or even Champion, who would be a challenge even for Cullen, sometimes she would set the chessboard up and not touch a single piece; those were the days that Cullen was playing white. 

“Liara?” Leliana was stood in the doorway, watching her from the other side of the room, from behind Cullen. Liara stood up, and met Leliana in front of Cullen. “We have a meeting with one of the Dalish clans today, remember? I would appreciate you actually turning up to this, I do not want to offend anyone by accident,” Leliana’s voice was soft, and yet, Liara thought she heard something else in her tone, something she didn’t entirely understand. 

“And if I do not believe that the presence of a cripple will endear us to this particular clan?” Liara bit out the word, which echoed throughout the room, which made Leliana raise her eyebrow. “We’ll be meeting in the Grand Oak’s clearing, if you decide to join us rather than staring at chess sets and statues.” 

Liara watched as Leliana stalked out of the room.

* * *

 

“We are not here to fight. But neither do we want to join your Sanctuary.” Liara watched as none of Leliana’s team removed their hands from their weapons. The Dalish kept their bows up. “And why should we believe you don’t want to fight?” Liara stepped forward, standing opposite the leader of this group of Dalish, the First of the clan, by the staff and his age. “Because Fen’Harel wishes to offer you a gift,” the First replied, eyes flicking to Liara’s prosthetic, and if Solas offered her a cure for her hand, a way to go back to normal, she would leave because who knew what he’d ask for in return. No gift came without a price from him. 

“What is this gift?” Leliana was suspicious, and looked to be ready to loose her arrow if any of the Dalish made any sudden movements. The First moved slowly, holding a bag out. Liara reached for it, snatching it from the mage, and then moving back quickly, Leliana moving with her. The First had a cruel smile on his lips. “I was telling the truth when I said that we are not here to fight. In the bag is part of a cure for petrification.” Liara froze, unable to even understand what was happening as Leliana continued the discussion. The discussion that washed over and around Liara as if she were underwater, or like when she’d been in the Fade, deciding between Hawke and Alistair, and who got to live. 

Then the Dalish were fading into the forest, and Leliana and Champion were grabbing Liara by the arm and the bottom of her cloak, dragging her back towards the temple with them. 

* * *

 

The ingredient for this supposed cure was something none of the herbalists or mages had ever seen before, neither Leliana’s nor Josephine’s contacts were able to identify it and the collection of statues was growing. They were losing more people every week, and there were more who were just missing. 

Liara watched as each new statue was brought in, and each time she blamed herself. If she’d been able to convince Solas that the world wasn't worse because the Fade was separated from it, none of this would have happened. 

Messages sometimes came from the other outposts, but to avoid the kind of problems the Inquisition had faced towards the end, Hawke, Liara and the others tended to keep their information separate unless it was the leaders meeting. 

Everyone could tell that the fight wasn’t going well, and Liara spent more and more time in the gloom of the statue rooms, Champion at her side. 

* * *

 

The world was burning, fights between Fen’Harel’s followers and the former Inquisition causing more chaos than the Mage-Templar War had at times, in some places. Fereldan was not one of them. Liara was far removed from the fighting, too far to help. And staring at these statues wasn’t helping. But she couldn’t  _ do _ anything else. She couldn’t help Leliana, she wasn’t diplomatic enough for Josephine, she couldn’t take command the way Cullen had or did or would, she wasn’t the Inquisitor anymore, she was only a crippled elf who got in the way. 

And then Champion dragged her away from the statues, away from the gloom, to the training yard. 

Weary warriors and drained rogues sparred, dragging their feet, the futility of the fight reaching even here. A few glances were cast in her direction, and she felt more self-conscious than ever, her hand reaching towards her arm, before she realised she was wearing a prosthetic. She hid her arm behind her back instead. 

Leliana was there, and Liara watched as her eyes flicked from Champion to her. And then Leliana started walking forwards, towards them and the feeling of dread in Liara’s gut started to grow heavier. Something was going to happen and Liara just wanted to leave. 

“Liara, I know you wish to leave and to join the fight against Solas. If you demonstrate some commitment to learning to fight, we will send you out. But we will not send you anywhere unless you can defend yourself,” Leliana gestured towards Champion, “He can help you. I saw the Warden fight with her marbari, working together to kill countless darkspawn. You and Champion could fight in the same way.”

Champion barked and wagged his tail at Liara, the only agreement she needed, especially if it got her out of here. 

* * *

 

Liara watched as Hawke wandered off, meeting complete. Her team was struggling as much as Liara’s own against Solas’ supporters, apparently. Although the information they’d been able to share would be useful, once Liara got back from the Exalted Plains. 

Champion barked and Liara looked down to see that he’d dropped a stick at her feet. She smiled, picking up the stick and throwing it as far as she could. Looking around, the Exalted Plains seemed a lot less desolate now humans weren’t trying to kill each other and there were virtually no demons.  _ A lot less desolate doesn’t mean much for the Exalted Plains though _ , Liara reflected, grateful she couldn’t sense the weaknesses in the Veil here. 

And then Champion froze, halfway back from collecting the stick for the sixth time, watching something behind Liara. She turned, not seeing what Champion was immediately. And then she saw him. Solas. Fen’Harel. 

She couldn’t move, could barely breathe, could only stand and watch as Solas walked through the Plains, alone. Champion had moved closer to her, a comforting presence at her side, keeping her rooted through the fear. 

She watched as he turned towards her and raised his staff in her direction. Then he continued walking, disappearing into some of the ruins. 

Liara didn’t breathe properly until she was back in Fereldan. 

* * *

 

“We have something to show you, Liara,” Josephine was saying, before Liara had even had a chance to mention what had happened in the Exalted Plains, before she could say she’d seen Solas. “Come with us,” Leliana touched Liara’s shoulder gently, before heading into the temple, Josephine right behind her. 

The walk in silence through the temple filled Liara with dread. Something was very wrong. And Liara had a feeling she knew what it was. The more they walked, the more accurate she thought her suspicion was. 

Her heart sank when Leliana and Josephine paused outside the statue room, where Cullen was, where all of Solas’ victims were. This was very bad. 

Leliana gestured for Liara to go into the room. Tentatively, pausing in the doorway, Liara stepped into the gloom, Leliana and Josephine behind her with a torch. 

What she saw when she entered made her freeze, made her so angry, so sad, so scared that she couldn’t even think. 

She walked round the room, checking every person, trying to see if it was the same for all of them. 

She stopped when she got to Cullen, staring at him, staring at the crack in his wrist, exactly the same as every statue, all of them had a crack on the left wrist. 

As Liara watched, a crack appeared on Cullen’s shoulder, echoing throughout the room as every statue was affected in the same way. 

* * *

 

Weeks later, cracks were appearing once every few days, sometimes old cracks got worse instead of new ones appearing. Research into the cure was going badly, and everyone was losing a little bit more hope each day. 

And then an envoy appeared. An envoy from Solas. Everyone held their breath as the mage bowed slightly towards Liara and began to speak. “Fen’Harel would like to offer you the chance to meet him, to discuss the situation,” he said, extending a hand with a scroll in it towards Liara, who took it and gave it to Josephine to open. 

The silence in the clearing was deafening as Josephine, Leliana and Liara all read the scroll. Then Liara looked up, looked the other elf in the eye and spoke, “This says that only I can meet with Solas. That is unacceptable, I need both Leliana and Josephine with me for a meeting this...important.”

“Fen’Harel wishes to only meet with you. He will also be alone for the meeting, so there is no need for you to bring your attendants.” Liara froze, terrified at the thought of being near Solas alone, the rest of the conversation washing over her, as Josephine took control of the negotiations and Leliana was given the gift Solas had sent them this time, another part of the cure, although they still had no idea how to use these ingredients to cure the victims. 

The rest of the meeting with the envoy went by in a blur, although Liara did manage to agree to a time and place for the meeting after Josephine had managed to persuade the envoy to let Leliana and Champion accompany Liara.

* * *

 

The Exalted Plains felt more haunted than ever as Liara, Leliana and Champion waited for Solas at Var Bellanaris. Every time the wind howled, or a twig snapped, or a wolf growled, Liara flinched, expecting Solas to be behind her at any moment. The only thing keeping her in place was Leliana’s presence at her side and Champion’s fur under her hand, as the dread she felt increased with every second they had to wait for Solas. Liara’s hand also often strayed to her prosthetic, adjusting the straps and fiddling with her sleeve as the wait grew almost unbearable. 

And then he was there, alone, as he’d said, not even glancing at Leliana or Champion. Liara squirmed under his gaze, wanting more than ever to leave, but unable to move now she was face to face with him. 

“Solas.” She wanted to get this meeting over with as soon as possible. His eyes flicked to her arm, to her prosthetic, and she felt even more helpless than usual, even more unable to do anything. 

“Liara, it is good to see you again, thank you for coming to this meeting.”

“I don’t want to be here, but when Fen’Harel sends a messenger, it’s a bit difficult to turn him down.”

“I was hoping after we saw each other here the other time, you would be amenable to talking, given that you didn’t try to kill me,” Solas was talking quietly, never taking his eyes off Liara’s face, his gaze intense, “And I come with an offer.” 

“An offer?” Liara was trying her best to remain calm, to breathe evenly, to not panic. Solas nodded, before his eyes flashed, and Champion’s fur was stone under her fingers. Liara turned around and saw that Leliana had also been turned to stone, the same as Champion, and she gasped in outrage, “You - How - Why - What purpose does this have?” 

"This is a demonstration, of what I can do. And what I am offering,” he replied, voice calm, as he reached into his bag, and pulled out a small jar. “This is the cure. I will prove to you that it works, that this pretrification is reversible, and give you both the rest of this jar and a recipe for how to make it. In return, you will stop your efforts to prevent me from tearing the Veil down, and you will ensure that Hawke and the others also stop these futile attempts to stop me.” Solas then applied a small amount of the cure on both Leliana’s and Champion’s foreheads. 

Liara watched as colour slowly returned to their bodies, as they each took in a deep breath, as Leliana stood up straighter and Champion crouched down, ready to growl. 

“What do you decide, Liara?”


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See I didn't leave you on that cliffhanger for too long. I hope. 
> 
> And the last scene was so difficult to write. 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT, they warm my cold heart.

Liara stared at Solas. He stared back. Champion growled, shifting his paws as he got ready to charge. Leliana hissed under her breath, reaching for an arrow. Liara watched as Solas’ gaze flicked between the three of them, completely unconcerned.

 “Solas. I will not stand by while you destroy the world, while you take everything from us again. And I will not leave all of your victims as they are. There is no deal.” She flicked her arm up, throwing a knife with her good hand, and leaped towards him, taking great pleasure at the look of complete astonishment on his face. And then his eyes flashed, and she was frozen, turned to stone.

 She saw him flinch as the knife flew past his cheek and a small cut appeared there, blood pooling to the surface. He looked back at her, and she saw his hands tighten around his staff. He turned his back on her and left.

* * *

 

She watched and waited, as day turned to night, and night turned to day. Each passing hour convinced her more and more that she was lost, that she would be stuck like this forever. And yet, she felt more connected to the Fade than she had since before Solas took her arm and saved her life. 

She could feel the connection to the other victims, to Leliana and Champion, the connection stronger because they were at her side. She reached past them, towards the web of statues left throughout Thedas, feeling the cries for help, the sobs of pain, the silences of despair, the mages who were fighting back. It was those mages she reached for, asking for their help, their willpower, as she took her own knowledge of Solas, her familiarity with his magic, and memories of what it was like to move, to feel the wind blowing through her hair, the feel of snow and sand on her skin, and _snapped_ the magic through her body.

 Collapsing to her knees, Liara took in huge gulps of air. She had done it, she was free. And she was going to cure everyone. Then they’d stop Solas.

* * *

 

Just as Liara had managed to get to her feet, had managed to stop shaking, she saw what might have been Josephine with some of the soldiers in the distance, and waved to get their attention, before resting her hand on Leliana’s shoulder, apologising silently for not being able to save her, or Champion.

 “What happened?” Josephine asked, heading straight for Leliana as soon as she was close enough to realise that Leliana wasn’t moving. Liara moved, letting Josephine past, and then kneeled down in front of Champion. “Solas asked something that I wasn’t willing to give, after demonstrating a cure on Leliana and Champion. We attacked him. He turned all of us to stone. And I got free. Somehow. I cured myself. And I know how we can start working on a cure for everyone. Then we stop him.” Liara was firm, hand clenching into a fist as she rested her forehead on Champion’s.

 She helped the soldiers move Leliana and Champion onto the cart they’d brought with them for this outcome, promising them that they’d have nothing to fear, not from Solas, nor from his insane plan.

She rested her hand gently on Cullen’s wrist, where the crack was so deep, his hand was at risk of falling off. She would cure him. She turned, looking at Leliana and all of the others, before leaving the room, ready to cure this curse.

* * *

 

Returning to the meeting room where only Josephine waited for her, the large cavernous room seeming so much bigger now it was only the two of them, she adjusted the straps on her prosthetic, making it as comfortable as possible. She made a quick stop in the small library, collecting the few mages who had been with them since the beginning and who led the research into the cure, and then threw the doors to the meeting room open.

 Josephine looked towards her, a small smile on her face, which Liara returned as she strode towards the table, standing at her advisor’s side. The mages settled into places around the table, clearly uncomfortable, but waited in silence all the same.

“There is a cure for this petrification, and we will work on it together.” Liara’s announcement caused the mages to mutter among themselves, glances were both exchanged and sent towards Liara’s prosthetic, which she slammed on the table as a call for silence. Josephine set her quill down on the table, and rested her free hand on Liara’s arm.

“Not only was Liara able to cure herself of this petrification, which she will happily discuss with you later, Leliana and Champion were both petrified and then cured by Solas, and we have had reports that petrified mages are showing more signs of active magic, so it may be that they can also cure themselves. For now, we need to work out how we can apply what we have learned to cure the victims in the statue room as soon as possible, before any damage becomes permanent.”

Liara nodded, shaking Josephine’s hand away, and waited for the questions. She was prepared for this. This would help Cullen and Leliana and Champion and all the others. That was what was important. So when the first question arrived, she wasn’t taken completely by surprise.

“Inquisitor, would it be possible that Solas cured you of this rather than you curing yourself because of your history together?” the mage seemed like the sort who didn’t believe that non-mages could do things, that they could fight blood magic or have a connection to the Fade. She resisted the urge to throw her spare prosthetic, the one Leliana had insisted she keep under the table, at him. “Solas would never knowingly have left a way out for someone who has vowed to stop him, especially if that someone knows him as well as I do. I believe that it was luck and a great deal of help that allowed me to cure myself. Not Solas.”

“Well then,” the mage still sounded dismissive, condescending, like Solas had about the Dalish, “Tell us about how you cured yourself, if you are so certain that it wasn’t one of the most powerful mages to ever exist.”

“I was aware. When I was stone. I could still see and hear and feel emotions and think. I just couldn’t move or breathe,” she began as mages were reaching for parchment and quills, some scribbling so fast she wondered if they’d be able to read it later, “and I could feel the Fade. Sort of like I felt it when I was near a rift, but couldn’t see the rift. Like it was pulling me. So I didn’t fight it,” here she paused, not knowing how to explain the connections she had felt rather than seen between the others, the way each statue was it’s own light, how to explain that she had felt the fear and pain and despair and hope the others had felt.

 She took a breath, released it, and inhaled again. “It was like being part of something. I was in between the Fade, and here. I didn’t see so much as _feel_ the presence of the others, of Leliana and Champion, who were closest to me. I sort of reached past them, or let them fade into the background. And I could _feel_ the others, who was hurting, who was fighting, who could help. That’s how I got the mages to help me. I think. I had, maybe still have, this connection to Solas, to his magic,” she raised her arm, where her hand was so obviously missing, where not only had she lived with the Dread Wolf’s magic in her body for _years_ , but he’d taken her hand with magic, and some magic lingers, “and I used that, and the help the mages sent me through the connection. And I was free, I was cured.”

 The mages were stunned for a handful of seconds, a silence so shocked, so puzzled that Liara worried she’d not explained herself well, and then the mages turned to each other, all talking at once, all discussing different theories at the same time, that Liara almost couldn’t cope, almost fled, but Josephine moving to her other side, grasping her hand, gave her an anchor, and she knew she could do this. She just had to lean on Josie.

The mages were still debating how best to test their theories when Liara and Josephine were called away from their discussion, to their relief.

* * *

 

They entered the statue room to find a few of the victims on their knees, panting, gasping for air, checking themselves over and sobbing. Liara and Josephine stood in the doorway, almost paralysed with shock as one or two of the victims stood up, shaking slightly and walked slowly over towards them.

 Liara flinched as one of the clasped her hand. “Thank you. Without you I’d still be there, still be fighting a useless battle, struggling to stay sane,” he said, bowing slightly. She nodded, unable to say anything. “How can we help?” he asked, gesturing to the handful of people gathered in front of her.

“Our mages are meeting in the meeting hall to discuss a cure. I will lead you there myself, if you like,” Josephine stepped in, taking control of the situation, and leading the group of cured people away.

 Liara stepped slowly into the room, looking at each statue for a long time. And then she saw Cullen, Champion at his side. She watched him for a long time, hoping, praying, that whatever had cured the others had cured him as well, cured Champion, cured Leliana.

 She didn’t know how long she waited, as tears started to roll down her cheek, and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.She woke up in the gloom of the statue room, stiff and dusty, with Josephine knelt next to her. She sat up slowly, taking Josephine’s outstretched hand and standing up. A cough from the shadows brought a mage to her attention. He stepped forward, bowing slightly as he did so.

* * *

 

“My lady, between the information you gave us, and the help from the mages who were recently cured, we have come up with something that might cure the others. But we need your help. You still have the strongest connection to Solas and his magic out of everyone here. And we believe that this connection is what allows us to undo this, it’s a catalyst, of sorts.”

 Liara nodded, shivering slightly as she stepped forward. “What do you need me to do?"

* * *

 

Cullen collapsed onto his knees, sword clattering to the ground as he gulped in air for the first time in so long. Leliana and Josephine helped him to his feet, taking his shield away from him, supporting him as he watched Liara and her mage assistant cure Champion.

 The ointment was applied to the marbari’s head, like before, and Liara pressed the stump of her arm, where her connection with Solas’ magic was strongest, to the ointment. There was a crackling sound, like lightning, and then colour returned to Champion’s fur, and Cullen was kneeling down, and Champion was licking his face and they were together again. Cullen looked up to thank Liara, but she was gone, vanishing into the room, towards other victims, to cure them as well.

 He grasped Leliana’s hand as he stood up, Champion by his side and walked out of the room, pausing at the door to watch Liara help another person up, before walking through the hallways with Leliana and Josephine, discussing the situation, and how it had developed while he was petrified.

* * *

 

Liara stumbled out of the temple, eager to be away from the oppressive stone walls and the grateful thanks of everyone she had cured, even if they were crippled, away from the pieces of shattered stone where she’d failed, where there could be no thanks. She was so eager to just be away that she was barely looking where she was going, and almost walked into a tree, coming to an abrupt stop with her nose barely an inch from the trunk.

 She turned when she heard the barking, and saw Champion bounding towards her, Cullen walking rather briskly behind him, and moved away from the tree, towards the path that led into the forest.

Then Champion was leaping towards her, knocking her over, licking her face, and wagging his tail happily. Cullen pushed the marbari aside, offering Liara a hand as she got up, giving Champion a hug before she rose to her feet.

 “Thank you,” Cullen began, as awkward as he had been back in Haven, back when the Inquisition was still finding its feet, “for looking after Champion, for curing me, for curing all of us,” he held the basket he was carrying up, “would you like to join me and Champion for a picnic? Neither one of us wishes to be indoors any more than necessary right now,” he added, shaking his other wrist.

“I wouldn’t wish to interrupt your time with Champion, it has been a long time since you saw each other,” Liara said quietly, wanting so desperately to say yes, but too scared to, too scared of where the conversation might go. Cullen reached forward and grabbed her prosthetic before either of them realised what he was doing, dropping it like he’d been burned as soon as he noticed which hand he’d grabbed, as Liara flinched and backed away slightly.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off, then took a deep breath, “Champion and I _want_ you to join us on this picnic, and I’d like to spend some time with you when we can actually talk. Having a conversation is a bit difficult when you’re a statue.” He smiled, and Liara nodded before she even knew what was happening, what she was doing.

 Champion barked happily, running along the path into the forest, but never straying so far that he couldn’t see or hear Liara and Cullen as they followed in silence, taking pleasure from the lack of stone, the sounds of the forest, the presence of the animals, and the gentle breeze that blew through the trees.

* * *

 

The food wasn’t the best she’d ever had, but the company more than made up for it, Liara reflected as she watched Cullen play fetch with Champion. There was a tranquility here, a peacefulness that she’d not experienced in a long time, and she enjoyed the moment as much as she could, letting herself relax and not feeling self-conscious about her arm, or her failures, or anything. It was nice.

She was lying on her back, watching as birds flitted through the trees, and squirrels jumped from branch to branch, when Champion flopped onto the ground next to her with a huff. She pushed herself up onto her side, and sent the marbari a fond, if exasperated look. Cullen settled next to her, grabbing a sandwich from the basket.

As Liara moved, sitting up, she smiled at Cullen, “Finally tired him out?” she said, reaching forward to give Champion a pat. “You could have helped, you know,” he said, a smile twitching at his lips. Liara raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. “He hasn’t seen you in weeks, it was you he wanted to play with. Although I’m sure he’s glad you’re no longer playing ‘dodge the imaginary fireball’ rather than plain old fetch,” she replied, laughing softly when Cullen went pink and began stuttering about how that was  _trainin_ _g_.  

Liara went silent when Cullen turned to face her properly, as she froze when his hand reached for his glove, and he revealed the scar that lay on his wrist. “Without you, my hand would be gone, I would be trapped there, and,” he paused, staring at his wrist, “Champion would be alone. You saved me. You saved Champion. Thank you.” One of his hands took hers, while the other reached for her prosthetic. She shifted, moving the tiniest bit closer to him. “Cullen, I’m just sorry I didn’t save you sooner, that I wasn’t who everyone thought I was, that I wasn’t who _I_ thought I was, that so many people suffered. I should have done more.”

He reached forward, brushing her hair away from her face, “Liara. This isn’t, wasn’t, your fault. You were struggling, I could see that,” his gaze was so intense, she had to look away, “and you kept me sane. Every time I saw you, every time you visited, I had a reason to hold on.”

Liara’s gaze snapped to Cullen’s face, to the sincerity in his eyes, and she stared back, unable to respond, not knowing what to say. Champion then nudged her with his nose, sending her tumbling into Cullen’s arms, and as he held her, he brushed her hair away from her face again, before pressing a kiss to her lips.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I have no excuse. So I offer you was originally planned to be two parts in one big chapter. Have fun, enjoy and leave a comment!

Liara was getting ready to leave, to go to Hawke’s base in the Vimmark Mountains, to give the cure to the statues there. Each day’s training brought her one day closer to saving more people, to taking the fight to Solas, instead of just reacting. She trained as hard as she could, working with Cullen and Champion so she would be able to defend herself, to defend others, to stop Solas. She wouldn’t be a liability. And if she complained excessively to Champion about how her arm ached every day when she took the prosthetic off, when the sores appeared and wearing it was almost as painful as the Anchor had been at the Exalted Council, when she was struggling to keep going through the pain and the fear, then she only complained when it was just her and Champion. 

 

The day Cullen gave her a new prosthetic was the day she dreamed of Solas, properly of Solas, for the first time since before the Exalted Council. The prosthetic was beautiful, and as she stared at it in wonder, in awe, she felt tears begin to well up, and one slid down her cheek. 

 

When Cullen helped her put it on, showed her how to knock an arrow and draw back the bowstring, and she kissed him, unable to find any words to express her gratitude, hoping the kiss would convey how much this meant to her, and she ran through the temple, to the training yard to practice, to learn how to use this bow as well as she had her old one. 

 

She laughed when her first shot missed so utterly and completely that the arrow was probably irretrievable, she laughed when her second shot was almost as bad as the first, and the third shot as well. None of them were even close to the target, but she didn’t care, she could work at this. And then Cullen was behind her, helping her adjust the way she was used to shooting to this new bow and the way it felt attached to her body. It was another 5 shots before she hit the target with Cullen’s help, and it took the rest of the day for her to be able to hit the target on her own. But she was happy. 

 

It was that night that she dreamed of Solas, dreamed of wandering the Fade in ways she hadn’t since the Anchor had been on her hand, causing her pain and reminding her every waking moment of who she had to be to save the world. 

 

In the dream, Solas was watching her, always the same distance away, no matter how many steps towards him she took, or how fast she ran in the other direction. He didn’t say anything, didn’t respond to her shouts, her pleas to end this, just watched her, raised his arm as he had his staff all that time ago in the Exalted Plains, and she woke.

* * *

 

She woke up shivering and scared. She moved as quietly through the room, trying not to disturb Cullen or Champion, she grabbed a knife, ignoring the prosthetics that lay next to it, and ventured into the forest, in need of some space. 

 

It wasn’t just the dream, the first dream of any kind she’d had that Solas had appeared in since...since Champion had led them to Cullen, and Liara had cried into Josephine’s arms. Even when faced with her friends, her family, the people she wanted to protect more than anything, turning to stone, she had been able to be brave, to have hope, to continue fighting. 

 

But now something felt different, there was a meaning to Solas’ actions, to his appearance in the dream, to the crease of his brow, that Liara could tell was important, was vital, but couldn’t understand. She only knew she was terrified, more even than she had been of the Nightmare when it had taunted her, when it had taunted all of them, when she’d felt so trapped. And now, something about Solas was scaring her more than a demon who fed on her fear. 

 

Now her fear was eating away at her, and now she didn’t have any idea where to go next, how Solas would proceed, how he would bring down the Veil. And she had so much more to lose now, more than when she’d fought Corypheus. Then, everything had been so simple, if she hadn’t stopped Corypheus, he’d have marched on the Black City, and she and all her friends would have died. She hadn’t been scared, not really. She hadn’t thought about the consequences, she hadn’t let herself, but now, all she could think about was Solas destroying everything just to restore something that had been lost for millennia. 

 

The realisation came with the dawn, and although it wasn’t much, it eased the fear slightly, enough that she went inside, to the meeting room, for Leliana and Josephine and Cullen. She might have been scared, but she wasn’t alone. 

* * *

 

The prison in the Vimmark mountains that was serving as Hawke’s base was...impressive, Liara decided as Varric led them inside, occasionally kicking one of the skulls lying around and muttering about something that Liara didn’t bother to listen to, this place held too many memories for Varric for the mutters to be something he wanted overhearing. 

 

And then he was running towards Hawke, and she was crouching down and the two of them were embracing while the rest of Hawke’s companions looked on fondly. Liara had to grab Cullen’s hand to remind herself that although Hawke’s companions, her family, came back when Liara’s left her, Liara was not alone, and never would be, even if she wondered if her Inner Circle was somehow less  _ family _ than these people in front of her, this group of strangers except for Varric and Hawke, and Liara could only grip Cullen’s hand as tightly as she could, using him as her anchor as the flood of loss and betrayal and pain swallows her. 

 

A small sob escaped her, and Cullen drew her close, steering her through the maze-like caverns and tunnels until he sat them down on a bed. He didn’t say anything, just held her. It was enough. 

* * *

 

Hawke led them to the statue room a week later, when Josephine and Leliana have arrived, as well as all those who wanted to join the fight, to help out. Liara smiled when she saw her friends, her family, and Champion, who almost knocked her over with his greeting. 

 

Each victim was given the cure slowly, making sure that there were people there to catch them, to help them adjust to movement, to breathing, to the need for water, as Liara spent days carefully freeing each one from the stone prison, and each day she became more efficient, better, with fewer statues shattering or crumbling as she learned how to feel the magic, the way the stone was bound to them before snapping the links between the victim and Solas and the stone and Solas. Every person she freed felt like a small victory in the war, a small battle won, another person helped. She told Cullen this one time, as they stood at one of the windows of the tower, hands linked. He smiled back at her, “The smallest victory could make all the difference,” he said, before pulling her into a kiss. 

* * *

 

As more and more of their allies joined them, as they met up with old friends on the way to Tevinter, on their way to face Solas and stop his plans for the last time, Liara trained with everyone she could, working with Cullen and Champion to take down enemies she hadn’t been able to in a long time. 

 

Every waking hour was spent training, or negotiating with people who didn’t understand that there was something worse than the Breach, that they needed everyone’s help, or talking to Solas’ spies and assassins, trying to convince them that what he was doing was wrong. Prisoners were kept close, forced to watch as Liara brought the petrification victims back, some missing limbs, others having lost family members, as they gasped for breath, tears running down their faces, reaching for someone to give them hope. 

 

No prisoner turned on Solas, but a growing number of elves joined them, not wanting to trade the lives of their families and friends for a promise. A city elf from Denerim, only just recovering from the events of the Blight, arrived with his daggers and his wit, simply wanted a better life, a chance at the kind of life the humans had, without the discrimination or the hatred. “I’m happy with who I am, with my family, but I just want to be able to walk around my home like I’m not an intruder, like the humans. I don’t want all of them to die, I don’t want any of them to die that don’t deserve it. This madman doesn’t see that,” he said when Liara asked why he was fighting. 

* * *

 

The town of Solas was quiet and still as Liara watched it from a distance, waiting for something to happen. Their small group of the remnants of the Inquisition, supported by men and women of all walks of life who wanted to move forward rather than backwards, who wanted to live, would have to be enough to face whatever was coming. 

 

The orb was useless, the Anchor gone, but as the camp grew a little more every day, as Blackwall arrived from Starkhaven, a small group of volunteers with him, all wanting to make a difference, as Sera sent more Red Jennies each week, before finally descending upon the camp herself, Dagna hovering at her side, buckets of water and custard pies ready to alleviate the tension, as Bull and his Chargers showed up with information, weapons, old friends and new perspectives, Leliana, Josephine, Cullen and Liara waited and planned, thinking of new ways to take down Solas, to save the world yet again. 

 

Cassandra and her new Seekers arrived, and she and Liara embraced, holding each other close for as long as they feel necessary. Cassandra’s embrace was so tight, Liara had to pause to get her breath back before greeting Vivienne and her mages who travelled with the Seekers. “The Divine was so kind in allowing us this wonderful escort, although we could have done with less clanking armour,” Vivienne smiled as Cassandra snorted, and gave Liara a delicate embrace of her own, one that was as graceful as Cassandra’s had been strong. Liara and Vivienne were not as close as Liara and Cassandra were, but they could set aside their differences for the good of the world. 

 

Varric greeted every returned companion just as he had greeted Hawke in the Vimmarks, Hawke who travelled with them, but who had decided to set up a second camp, to help with the influx of volunteers. Varric had chosen to stay with Liara, and spent as much time as he could gathering stories from the friends they’d been separated from for so long. 

 

Each night, Liara watched the town, hoping for a clue to stop the battle before it started. 

* * *

 

The day the town suddenly became a hive of activity was the day that no-one could relax, as people moved about the camps slowly, with their weapons half-drawn, casting nervous glances towards the town. Liara spent the day perched on a ledge, her bow in hand as she watched, and waited, and prayed that this was not Solas, come to destroy the world. 

 

“Can’t relax, can’t let go, but you must let go. He’ll win otherwise. He can’t win,” Liara flinched, and turned around to see Cole crouched metres away from her, Dorian close behind him. She stood up, and stepped towards them. “When did you get here?” she asked, reaching out to pull first Cole and then Dorian into a hug. “With the order to evacuate Solas. Being a magister has its perks, and being the Magister with connections to the rag-tag bunch of misfits sitting menacingly outside one of our towns means I got the job to come out here,” Dorian smiled, “We won’t have to worry about Solas hurting innocent people from that town, although I wouldn’t have known it were you if Cole hadn’t told me.” 

“It’s good to see you both,” Liara said, dragging them towards the camp, towards the rest of their friends from the Inquisition and for a few hours, everything was almost the same as before. Almost. 

* * *

 

Things began to happen far quicker than anyone had imagined, and Liara began to wake more and more often from dreams that Solas stalked, and not even Cullen’s comfort was enough to help her, not all the time. Dorian and Vivienne and Cole tried everything they could think of, setting aside prejudice and dislike as much as was possible to help her sleep, to stop these dreams, but there was no solution, no cure, not with Fen’Harel’s mastery of the Fade. 

 

And then the Dalish arrived. Fearing an attack from Solas, everyone was walking around in full armour, weapons at the ready. The Dalish claimed that talking was their only objective, and it was true, and they joined, wanting more, but not what Solas was promising, becoming a third, smaller camp between Liara’s and Hawke’s. 

 

A small War Council emerged, and nothing was ever agreed upon, but as the various groups worked together more, and shared their differences, a plan emerged, a plan that evolved from the thought that Liara had to something real, to something that might work. 

* * *

 

After the Dalish started calling her Hahren, and Merrill Keeper, the clan was welcoming, was friendly, for the Dalish, even if Liara did not believe she could ever join another clan, or rejoin her own clan, now scattered and broken thanks to Liara’s failures and Solas’ determination to isolate her, she thought that Merrill was feeling the same way, and when Merrill approached her, offering greetings in what little they both know of the Elven language, and asking about her clan. Liara shrugged, “I’ve not been with my clan for a long time, and now,” she sighed, gesturing to her stump, “They would see me as a stranger, I think,” she paused, trying to find the words for the next bit, “I am too different now, not who I was. It would be...impossible, I think, to go back to that life,” she shrugged again, as Merrill nods. The two elves lapse into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. 

 

Time passed and Liara leaned back, lying down on the stone floor. She tapped the fingers of her hand on the floor, humming of one of the Dalish songs that had brought her clan together in the past, that had made it a family. She closed her eyes as Merrill began to sing, not perfectly, but it was enough of a reminder of home, of who she’d been before everything had happened, before she’d been the saviour of Thedas, before she’d been told she was loved mere heartbeats before she was betrayed. 

 

She could feel Merrill’s eyes on her, could feel the tears slowly slipping down her face, but she didn’t care. No Dalish she’d met since the Conclave had understood her pain, of having to leave her clan. Merrill didn’t really understand it either, she was an outcast by her own choice, but she didn’t pretend too. 

 

Liara froze as Merrill shifted, and her eyes snapped open. Merrill was staring at her, hands flickering with the edges of one spell or another, closer to her face than Liara was comfortable with. She pushed herself along the stone floor, sitting up as soon as she felt like she was out of the mage’s reach. 

 

“What were you going to do?” her voice was hard, cold, angry in a way she hadn’t been since… since she’d had to face herself for her own failures. Merrill flinched, round eyes filled with guilt, but Liara was too angry, too scared to soften her tone. “Varric, he mentioned that you were one of the Elvhen. I thought he must have been wrong, you’ve no vallaslin, and well, we all have them. But that was a Dalish song,” Merrill held her hands in front of her, palms towards Liara, who shifted into a crouch, “I just wanted to see if I could tell what they looked like. Your vallaslin. I’m sorry I didn’t realise it would bother you and I should have asked but well, you just seemed so peaceful and I forgot to ask, it was like you were in Uthenera, I’m sorry,” Merrill stumbled over the words. 

 

Liara gestured to her arm, and then to her face, where her vallaslin should be, “Fen’Harel, he told me that vallaslin were slave-markings in Arlathan, that they showed who the owner of the slave was. He offered to remove them. I was foolish, I was young, and I was in love. I couldn’t bear to wear the markings if that was what they represented. I regret nothing more than letting him take my vallaslin. He took my hand to save my life, but he took my vallaslin so that he need not look on my face and see a reminder both of what we do not know, and what we used to be. And then he broke my heart.” 

 

Merrill blinked. Liara shuffled forwards, holding out her hand. Merrill took it. “We will stop him. We will show him that vallaslin are more than slave-markings, that they mean something different now, that they have changed, like the People have changed.” 

 

Liara followed Merrill up so many staircases, Merrill grabbing a bag from her room before leading them on more until they reached the top of the prison. It was dawn, the sun was rising, and Merrill pulled some small jars from the bag. “Today, we will repaint your vallaslin. You have a new clan, just like me, and you can wear these markings with pride. You are not a slave, you are Dalish, you are Elvhen, you are the leader of your clan.”

 

The ink was mixed with Liara’s blood, and she lay still, eyes closed as Merrill painted an elaborate design, scrawled into the dust, onto her face. Merrill worked in silence, her magic thrumming around them, aiding in the tattoo process. When at last she was finished, she shuffled back, waiting for Liara to sit up.

 

Liara stared at the horizon, towards Kirkwall, towards Orlais, towards the scar in the sky that marked the Breach, before turning to Merrill. “We are more than what Fen’Harel thinks. We are more than the Creators, the Evanuris, the Forgotten Ones. We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit. Not even to Solas.” 

* * *

 

Eventually, Solas arrived, the remnants of the elves of Arlathan and whichever Dalish and Elves he’d convinced to join him, all of them looking out towards what faced them. Liara kept her eyes on Solas as he and his followers advanced, each step causing her to force herself to calm down, to stay calm, and she reached for Cullen’s hand, squeezing it for the support she knew would be there. 

 

And then she signalled to advance. 

 

It was messy and unorganised, nothing at all like the elegant, beautiful march of Solas’ people, but these were not elves with endless lives, or hope beyond all, these were people who lived messy, unorganised lives, and who wanted to keep moving forward, to make every day better for their friends and family. These were not people who lived in the past, who wanted to go back to a time none of them remembered, these were people who wanted to learn from what had happened in the past, to do better next time. 

 

Outside the town gates, Liara stepped forward, separating herself from her friends, from her family, from those who were going above and beyond what they needed to do, from those who were willing to sacrifice everything to make the future better. 

 

Solas stepped forward as well, carefully signalling to his followers that they did not need to follow his lead. He smiled at her, and she saw the wolf in his smile now, the one who had destroyed everything her people had ever known, and now wanted to do the same thing once more, destroying so many lives in the process. 

 

“I will ask you once more, Dread Wolf, Fen’Harel, Solas, please, stop this madness. The past is not worth the destruction you would bring down on so many people’s lives, on families, on friends,” she began, carefully holding her arms, one whole, one not, at her sides, to not show him how much she hated what he’d done to her, not moving her hand to hold her arm, not shifting them as much behind her back as she could, tried not to let her fear show as she faced the man who had hurt her. 

 

She paused as he held up a hand. “Your face, you have new vallaslin, knowing what they are,” and there was something in his voice, in the twitch of his fingers, that made her step back the tiniest fraction. “I am, and always will be, a Dalish elf. The vallaslin have not stopped having meaning since you told me what they were originally for, and I will see to it that no elf has these markings without the knowledge you shared with me,” she paused to take a breath, her own hand held up to stop him interrupting, “Telling us about our past was important, what things meant then, what we have forgotten, and as with all things that we have, the meaning has changed since you destroyed what was our world. Taking away our ability to choose our own futures is almost as bad as the Evanuris’ enslavement of others.” She smiled at him then, hoping her smile was more predator than it had ever been before, that he was intimidated by her. 

 

“I see you are not to be dissuaded from standing against me, and it would be futile to ask you to join me, so, tell me, vhenan,” his own smile grew wider at the way she flinched slightly, “how do you plan to stop me?” 

 

“With friendship, with family, with belief that tomorrow is better than today.” Solas scoffed, visibly relaxing as he surveyed their small force. Liara whistled, trying not to smile, as Champion raced to her side. If this plan worked, only Solas had to die. If it didn’t, they were all doomed, and the world with them. 

 

Solas looked at Champion, and Champion looked back until Solas’ gaze flicked back to Liara. “You surely do not believe that you and a dog can defeat me on your own?” Liara grinned at him, hand resting on Champion’s head, and Solas raised an eyebrow. She could tell he thought he was going to win. 

 

Liara signalled, and Champion lunged forwards, snapping and barking at Solas, distracting him, and Liara saw all the elves behind Solas tense, saw them call up magic and prepare themselves to charge. She knew her own friends were doing the same behind her, could feel the various barrier spells being cast on Champion, on her, and on Solas. This needed to end quickly, before the connection she could feel vanished amid a thousand other spells. 

 

She reached, using what remained to her connection to the Fade, her connection to Solas, her memories of all the time they had spent together, her anger, her hurt, her love, her hope, her friendship, she used her knowledge of what Solas could do, how it felt, and she pulled on that, snapping all these thoughts and feelings, all the knowledge she possessed together, and through the pain, through the fear that this wouldn’t work, she signalled the Dalish mages. They cast the spells they’d been working on for weeks at her. 

 

Solas was staring, shock and fear flashing across his face along with admiration and emotions Liara couldn’t see as she focused on channelling the magic through her connection to Solas, focused on snapping that link, of doing to him what he’d done to her. She used the remnants of the Anchor, the memories of the pain it had caused her, and for a moment everything stopped. She felt the plan succeed, saw the grey creep across Solas’ skin, and released the magic she could no longer hold. 

 

She collapsed to her knees as Champion sniffed the statue opposite her, staring at the grass between the stone feet, and saw the cracks appear in the stone, as Champion moved away to sit next to her. She looked up briefly to see the cracks crisscross the whole statue, heard the stone give way, and soon she was staring at a small pile of stone. Liara heard both groups of fighters race to where she and Solas had had their confrontation. 

 

Cullen’s knelt down beside her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before moving to inspect the remains. Merrill’s hand covered her own, and Liara struggled to her feet, to embrace the elves who had helped her, as she ignored what she’d done to the man she’d once loved. 

 

She looked down at her arm, an arm that was no longer connected to the Fade, one which was as normal as the rest of her body, and she only felt relieved. She smiled slightly as Cole pushed her prosthetic into her chest, and stepped back as she struggled with the straps with numb fingers. 

 

Eventually, with help from Sera, and a hug, her prosthetic was attached. She turned around, moving to stand between Cullen and Merrill, to look at what she’d done, at what remained of the Dread Wolf. Behind the stones, Abelas and Solas’ other followers were shifting their weapons as if they were ready to fight, but nobody was making a move forwards. 

 

“Going backwards solves nothing, and we have not valued what elves of all kinds, city or Dalish, have managed since the Veil was created. Going backwards will not make things automatically better for the elves, going backwards is not the way forwards. The way forwards is found by sharing our knowledge and working together,” she said, extending her hand towards Abelas, towards these elves who were as out of place as Solas, who needed a home, who could be a part of this world rather than hiding from it. 

 

Tentatively, Abelas moved forward, a step at a time. Liara took a step forward, words weren’t enough, they might never be enough, not on their own, and Abelas closed the remaining distance, taking her hand and shaking it. “Will you help us build a better tomorrow?” she asked, and he nodded, as the rest of the elves stepped forward. They could only move forward together. 


End file.
